


meet me where the stars collide

by nowayout



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Book reference, Fluff, M/M, Movie Reference, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowayout/pseuds/nowayout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As expected, Newt laughs softly when Thomas begins to shuffle his feet, but he hesitantly puts his free hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “What are we doing?” he asks, his warm breath tickling Thomas’s cheek.</p><p>“Dancing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	meet me where the stars collide

**Author's Note:**

> After finding out about the almost-kiss I s'pose I do get it why Dylan and Thomas kept looking at each other like they were about to start making out. And tbh I'm really glad no one reminded them that their characters are supposed to be just friends.  
> So. Let's pretend dystopian rom-coms are a thing, okay? Okay.

 

 

He starts remembering at the bonfire as he watches the other boys hit the small steel barrels with makeshift sticks, keeping a rhythm that is unfamiliar to Thomas but which they seem to know by heart.

 

It isn’t much, but he supposes any memory could be helpful, even if this one seems rather useless at the moment. Maybe he’ll remember more if he keeps trying, maybe he will be able to help and get everyone out if he focuses a little harder on the fuzzy images that keep popping up in his mind.

 

So, the next morning, after Alby takes him to carve his name into the wall, Thomas tells Newt that he remembers music.

 

“Instruments, you mean?” Newt asks, furrowing his eyebrows like he doesn’t understand why Thomas is telling him this. “Cause we all remembers instruments. You ain’t that special, Greenie.”

 

Thomas rolls his eyes at the grin Newt is flashing at him, but there’s nothing he can do about the way the corners of his mouth turn up of their own accord. “No, I mean melodies,” he clarifies, sitting down on the log next to Newt, leaning a little closer than he dared to last night and letting their shoulders touch. “And voices. Singing.”

 

Newt is frowning again. Maybe it’s too early for this conversation, Thomas thinks, looking around to see that most of the other Gladers are still asleep. Frypan is getting breakfast ready, and Gally is helping Alby carry something from the platform around the Box, yawning and looking completely harmless for once, but for the most part the Glade is quiet in a way Thomas didn’t think was possible.

 

And maybe he’s not fully awake either, because he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders and asks Newt to get up. Anticipation and the smallest hint of embarrassment make his heart jump into his throat as he starts humming a tune he only remembers hearing in his dreams, his voice wavering just a little. And the thing is, he knows – he _knows_ – that Newt will laugh at him, so he’s mentally and emotionally prepared for the barely-contained chuckle Newt lets out when Thomas puts an arm around his waist and stretches the other one out after taking Newt’s hand in his. But so far Newt seems to be the one most willing to put up with Thomas’s curiosity and questionable decision-making skills, which leads him to hope that Newt will go with it anyhow, no matter how much Thomas’s actions confuse him.

 

As expected, Newt laughs softly when Thomas begins to shuffle his feet, but he hesitantly puts his free hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “What are we doing?” he asks, his warm breath tickling Thomas’s cheek.

 

“Dancing.”

 

“Yes, I can see that, but why?”

 

Thomas gives a half shrug and keeps looking down, mostly because he’s trying not to step on Newt’s feet, but also because he can feel his face heating up. “Thought it could help me remember? I don’t know, something. Anything.”

 

“You thought slow dancing might help you remember your past?”

 

Thomas nods slowly, suddenly aware of how ridiculous that sounds.

 

Newt laughs so hard he loses his balance, arms flailing helplessly for a second before his hands land on Thomas’s shoulders, fisting in the material of his shirt. And this is not the time or the place to be laughing, it shouldn’t even be possible to feel so lighthearted, Thomas thinks as he wraps the other arm around Newt’s waist as well and pulls him closer, but Newt chuckles again, his eyes scrunched up in amusement, and Thomas chooses to focus on his carefree expression instead of worrying about things he can’t remember. Things he can’t change.

 

“You can’t run without faceplanting and I can’t dance without tripping over my own feet.” Newt shrugs, flashing another unapologetic grin that matches the self-assured glint in his dark brown eyes. “Quite the pair, aren’t we?”

 

“A perfect match,” Thomas agrees, because if that’s what Newt took from their failed dancing attempt and if he can laugh at himself without being the least bit embarrassed, Thomas doesn’t see why he wouldn’t do the same.

 

He can’t recall if he was ever able to make friends easily, if he had any friends at all, people who could be missing him and wondering where he is right now. But something about Newt, something about the way he teases Thomas mercilessly and then goes out of his way to make him feel like he’s one of them, like Thomas fits right in among all these boys that have known each other for years, makes Thomas feel like he doesn’t have to worry. This isn’t something that has to be complicated or nerve-wracking. Sometimes a shared joke and a candid smile are enough, and maybe there really is such a thing as effortless friendship.

 

*

 

Ben’s Banishment is something of a wake-up call. This place is much crueler than he’d thought, Thomas realizes, and it’s affecting all of them, whether they show it or not.

 

He can’t fall asleep that night, so instead he keeps watching Alby sit alone by the fire with a haunted look in his eyes. Thomas thinks about the crossed-out names on the wall. About Chuck’s words, about the certainty and the resignation in his voice when he told Thomas that Ben wouldn’t make it. There’s something endlessly sad about someone as young as Chuck being able to accept death so easily, Thomas concludes dejectedly, but there’s something equally tragic about having to be the one to decide what to do with friends whose lives can’t be saved anymore.

 

He’s making his way towards Alby when he feels slender fingers wrap around his left wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

 

Newt is shaking his head at him. “Not now,” he says, giving Thomas a look that leaves no room for argument. He takes a few steps away from the sleeping Gladers, and Thomas finds himself following Newt without a second thought, even if he doesn’t know where they’re going.

 

Newt stops when they reach the edge of the woods, leaning against a tree trunk with his hands behind his back. Thomas can barely make out his features this far from the fire and the light it provides, but, still, he notices. The eyebrows that are drawn together, the lips pressed into a tight line. Newt’s eyes, usually bright and full of life, look dull, emotionless.

 

Thomas has to stop himself from screaming because he wants to help, wants to help so badly, but he has no idea what he could possible do or if there’s anything at all that he could do to make Newt feel less miserable. So he goes with the first thing that crosses his mind and starts pulling at Newt’s hands to make him come closer. He wraps both arms around Newt’s waist, puts his chin on his shoulder and waits for Newt to react. To hug back.

 

It doesn’t happen.

 

“I don’t need a hug to feel better,” Newt says, letting out a hollow laugh that makes Thomas want to hold on tighter. Still, he doesn’t push Thomas away, so at least there’s that.

 

“Well, I do,” Thomas tells him, sounding stubborn and a little childish to his own ears. He doesn’t care at the moment, he’s sure he’ll have plenty of time to be embarrassed about it later.

 

He hears Newt sigh, tired and defeated, but then he can feel wiry arms tentatively wrapping themselves around his neck. It probably shouldn’t feel like an accomplishment as much as it does, Thomas thinks absentmindedly, the fact that Newt is hugging him. But that’s another thing he decides to worry about later, happy to just let his fingers run up and down Newt’s spine for now, while he hums the same melody they tried to dance to the other day.

 

Newt’s slight build is deceiving, Thomas is very much aware of that. He’s seen what Newt can be like, what he can do when he gets angry and protective. He knows that Newt isn’t some fragile little thing that needs constant looking after, but that doesn’t stop him from wishing he could shelter Newt from all the nightmares that this place seems to be made of. Newt is different somehow. Thomas can’t explain how he knows it, he just does. Actually, he doesn’t know it, not really. But he can feel it. And that sounds even more stupid.

 

“This again?”

 

The amusement in Newt’s voice startles Thomas and he doesn’t even understand what Newt is talking about until he realizes that they’re slowly moving. Swaying. Sort of dancing, if what they’re doing can be called dancing.

 

“Wait, were you being serious?” Newt pulls back a little so that he can look Thomas in the eye. He doesn’t move his arms, though. “Does this actually help? Do you remember anything?”

 

Thomas wishes he could say he does, because Newt is giving him a hopeful look that breaks his heart a little. But lying would only make this worse, and he could never forgive himself for letting Newt get his hopes up when the truth is that Thomas is as clueless as the rest of them.

 

“I, uh. Not really, no,” he admits, shaking his head. They don’t stop moving; they’re only spinning slowly on the spot, but, somehow, that makes talking easier, so Thomas continues. “I just. Keep dreaming, I dunno. It’s just a bunch of stuff that doesn’t make sense. People wearing white coats. Scientists, I guess. And there’s this woman, sometimes, and she’s singing. To me, I think. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.” He shrugs nonchalantly, like he doesn’t spend most of his time trying to figure out the significance of his dreams. “But, anyway, that’s not what this is about. You and me. Dancing. I guess I kind of – I thought that maybe you could use a distraction right now, so I just. Yeah.”

 

He half expects Newt to laugh at him – he would laugh at himself too, at the bumbling mess he’s become if he wasn’t so mortified. He’s – he doesn’t know. He’s just being stupid.

 

But Newt starts smiling, a warm, genuine smile that leaves Thomas breathless for a second, and his eyes are a little brighter when he says, “Thanks, Greenie.”

 

Thomas can’t help but smile back.

 

*

 

“They’re memories.”

 

“What?”

 

“My dreams, they’re actually memories,” Thomas explains hurriedly, grabbing Newt’s arm and pulling him towards the woods. He knows that Gally is waiting to take him to the Pit, and he certainly didn’t look pleased when Thomas told him he had to talk to Newt first, but this feels important for some reason, like he’s _thisclose_ to putting all the puzzle pieces together, and telling Newt matters more than a punishment that is essentially a joke. “I mean, I kind of assumed that’s what they were, but then I talked to Teresa and she remembers stuff too, and, yeah.”

 

Newt rubs the back of his neck. “Hate to burst your bubble, Greenie, but that doesn’t really help much, does it?”

 

“Well, no, not right now, but. Tomorrow, maybe? When I’m in the Maze. Maybe I’ll remember something, you know? And –”

 

“Right. About that,” Newt interrupts, putting a hand on Thomas’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

 

Thomas panics instantly. What if Newt changed his mind about Thomas being a Runner? What if he thinks Gally is right and plans to give him a harsher punishment? What if –

 

“Just be careful tomorrow, okay?” Newt says kindly, making Thomas’s heart settle back in his chest. “Minho knows the Maze better than anyone, listen to him, yeah? Leave your hero complex in the Glade and listen to what Minho tells you to do. Got it, Greenie? And please, please, try not to do anything that could get you killed. We kind of need you. Here.”

 

Speechless, Thomas nods and does the only thing that feels right at the moment – he throws his arms around Newt’s neck and pulls him into a tight hug, relieved that he can feel Newt’s arms going around his waist at the same time. He doesn’t really know why Newt believes in him the way he does. And he’s not entirely sure he deserves Newt’s support, fails to understand what he’s done to earn it, but it’s – it means so much and he’s so, so grateful that Newt is always on his side.

 

Newt deserves to know that.

 

Thomas clears his throat, disregarding the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What you did earlier today,” he says, thinking back to the Gathering, “that was – I mean. You know. Thank you. Honestly. You didn’t have to –”

 

“You already thanked me, Greenie.”

 

“Yeah, I know, but you didn’t say anything,” Thomas reminds him, because he had expected a reply, and a barely-there nod did not count as an answer. And neither did the prolonged gaze.

 

He can feel Newt shrugging, and apparently that’s the end of the conversation, because Newt takes a step back, and then one to the left, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around Thomas, which gives him no choice but to follow. And Thomas follows willingly, happily, as he starts to hum their song. He feels Newt’s lips curve into a smile against his neck a second later.

 

“Is Gally right?” he asks grinning, feeling a little brave, a little stupid, and a lot happier than he should be considering how terrible everything is at the moment. “Am I getting some kind of special treatment from you? I mean, one night in the Pit isn’t much of a punishment, is it?”

 

“Shut it, Greenie,” Newt says, voice laced with carefree laughter, eyes alight with mirth. He seems to consider something, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before he starts smiling again. “I’ll tell Chuck to bring you some food in a bit. I’m not letting you go into the Maze on an empty stomach.”

 

Thomas doesn’t say anything, just keeps on grinning and looking at Newt, right into those coffee brown eyes that he hopes will always be as bright as they are right now.

 

“Fine,” Newt finally concedes, rolling his eyes and chuckling. “I guess you could say I have a soft spot for you.”

 

Thomas nods once, twice, grinning somehow even wider. And then, because he’s still feeling brave and stupid and ridiculously happy, he presses his lips against the corner of Newt’s mouth.

 


End file.
